Sümeyye Betül

– Uluslararası İstanbulensis Şiir Festivali –

Çarpışma

geride kalmak bende boşluk bırakmaz
açılan oyuklara çünkü kendimi koydum
burkulmaz içim köşeler bende kıvrılmaz
dolandım etrafımı, kendi dışıma kendimi ördüm

eşyaya gündüzü yerleştirdim kalkmayı yeniden
bu şehrin kuralları yok, mideme işlemez
daha kolay değil böyle yaşamak daha zor değil
akan ne varsa akmadan çer çöp deniz tarih kapılmadan
bulaşmadan yalnızlığa ama kalabalıklaşmadan
nasıl diye sormak bende karşılık bulmaz

kalmak tahta yüzüktür parmağımı terletir
ısıtıp da birisi şu uçuğa sürse
kimsenin beklediğini bilmeyendir kimse
bendense biraz herkes biraz katilse
ölmezsem. yaralanmak bende iz bırakmaz

kuşları ürküterek çekinmeden pervasız
sadece sıralayarak, sesi aramadan, ayarsız
herkesin içinden yeniden herkesi bulamam
anlatamam en baştan bir halka kuramam
çünkü çoktan yerleşmiş raflarda düzen
halbuki bir ağaç kovuğu, halbuki bir mağara
yanına meclis olur mesafe bırakmaz

git ama al koridorlarda kabaran geceyi
günler sallanan vapur, geçici baş dönmesi
denizin hırçın yükselişleri günler
kalkmayı şart koşmasan da hızlanıyor günler
söylenmiş midir sabahın bazen yetişmediği
ağzımı sıkı tutmak bende sorgu bırakmaz

Sümeyye Betül

She was born in Ankara in 1984. Her love for reading and writing started during her elementary school years. Her first poem was published in the school magazine. After having studied at the departments of Mathematics, Management Information Systems and Sociology, she graduated from the Computer Engineering Department. Her poems and writings appeared in magazines including Hece, Karabatak, Melamet, and Buzdokuz. Çarpışma – Collision (Ebabil Publishing) is the name of poet’s first book.

Collusion

falling behind wouldn’t cause emptiness in me
because i put myself in the opened cavities
my inside wouldn’t be twisted, the corners in me wouldn’t be curled
i walked around me, i weaved myself into me from outside

i placed the day into things and getup once more again
there are no rules for this town, they don’t cut no ice
living like this is not easier, not more difficult
without flowing whatever would flow; before waste, sea and history snatched
without being mixed up in loneliness but without getting crowded
asking how it is would not be reciprocated by me

staying amounts for a wooden ring sweating my finger
should someone warm it up and plaster on this herpes
someone seems to be the one not knowing someone is waiting
to me if it is a bit of everyone, a bit of murderer
had I not died, getting injured wouldn’t leave a mark in me

scaring the birds recklessly and unrestrained
merely putting the sound in order without trying to find, tuneless
i cannot find everyone again from inside of everyone
i cannot tell that i cannot set up a hoop all over
for the order was established in the shelves long since
whereas a tree hole, whereas a cave
would become a conclave and would dompt

go away but take away the swelling night in corridors
days rocking boat, temporary dizziness
peevish rise of the sea, days are picking up speed
even you don’t stipulate to take off
was it told that the morning did not catch up sometimes
being tight-lipped wouldn’t let me harbor questions in me